


Cover me up, Cuddle me in

by Kacka



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 20:56:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10647906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kacka/pseuds/Kacka
Summary: She curls around him, her fingers gentle on his side."I thought you were up now," he teases, finding her hand and slotting his fingers between hers."It's my day off," she murmurs, her toes curling and uncurling against his calves. "I'mrelaxing."





	Cover me up, Cuddle me in

Bellamy is tired. Tired to the bone.

He tries to let himself in quietly but the click of the lock is loud enough that Clarke stirs, smiling sleepily at him from a cocoon of blankets and furs. She always sleeps through the better part of the day after a night shift in medical, and she'd fallen into bed right as he was leaving it in the early pre-dawn hours for a hunting trip. 

"Hey," he whispers, sitting down on his side of the bed and leaning in to kiss her forehead. "Sorry for waking you. Go back to sleep."

She shakes her head. "I'm up now. How'd it go?"

"Smooth as ever." He rolls his eyes. "Wilkerson accidentally sprung a Grounder trap and it took us the better part of the morning to get him loose. Your mom is patching him up now."

"He's okay?"

"He's fine. We managed to get some birds, some rabbits, a handful of squirrels."

"That won't be enough for the whole camp," Clarke frowns, sitting up. Her hair is matted down on one side and her face has red marks pressed into it from the pillow, evidence of a good sleep. It makes him smile despite her seriousness. He forgets how young they are sometimes, but moments like this tend to remind him.

"We also took down a boar on the edge of the territory," he grins, reaching out to unstick a golden strand from her cheek. "I'm a _provider_."

Clarke purses her lips fondly. "Good, because that boar won't last us long. You'll probably have to go back out before the week's up."

"Yeah, I figured." He sighs and tugs his boots off, his pants and shirt quickly following as he makes his way to the wash basin in the corner.

"It's getting harder and harder to stay inside the boundary lines," he says, quiet enough anyone outside their cabin couldn't hear. He knows she's listening closely, and he's not saying anything she doesn't already know anyway. This is what they do: they bear it together. 

"We'll trade. Reopen negotiations if we have to."

"It took us long enough to settle on the terms we have." He scrubs fiercely at the sweat and dirt mixed on his skin. His good mood at coming home to a well-rested Clarke has given way to frustration and annoyance. Oh, what he wouldn't give to have control over things like migration patterns and the weather. 

"Then we'll start raising animals for slaughter." He can hear the creak of the floor beneath her as she treads lightly across it, the soft rustle of the blankets trailing in her wake, and then he feels her bury her face between his shoulder blades, nuzzling into him. "We're good for a few days. We don't have to figure it out right this second."

He exhales slowly, letting the stress begin to leak from him. It's not gone, he knows. Just at bay. Just for now.

"Okay?" She asks, peeking over his shoulder. He slants his eyes to the side, meeting her steady, reassuring gaze.

"Okay," he relents, and lets her pull him to the bed.

She curls around him, her fingers gentle on his side.

"I thought you were up now," he teases, finding her hand and slotting his fingers between hers. 

"It's my day off," she murmurs, her toes curling and uncurling against his calves. "I'm _relaxing_."

Bellamy huffs. "I didn't even realize you knew what that meant."

"You're one to talk."

He laughs, their hands on his chest rising and falling with the motion. "You're right. Neither of us is very good at this. Maybe there's a class we can take."

Suddenly she leans forward, pressing him down into the mattress beneath her, their fingers still as tangled as their legs. He manages to turn his head to the side, half of his beatific smile visible as she ducks down and nuzzles his shoulder blades again.

"I bet we can figure it out," she says, pressing an open-mouthed kiss over his spine. Bellamy laughs.

"So far, so good."

Clarke hums, the vibrations carrying through his entire body. "You helped carry that boar back, didn't you?"

He shivers when her lips brush his skin with every word, her breath warm, her kisses wet as she peppers them up his back.

"Of course I did." His voice comes out lower than he intends, almost embarrassingly so.

She shakes her head slowly, her teeth grazing him gently as she goes. "Always the damn hero."

"Somebody had to do it."

She moves further up, dropping kisses along the breadth of his shoulders. Tension ebbs from his frame with every skim of her skin on his, every puff of warm breath, every tender touch.

"You try to carry the world on these," she mumbles, nipping at his shoulder muscle. The one he strained lifting a section of wall at the dropship, the one that still gets sore when he uses his rifle too much, the one that he suspects will never fully heal. 

"Somebody has to," he echoes, his words muddled with lethargy. 

Clarke lingers over the spot, the fingers of her free hand pressing down hard into the muscle while her kisses carry whispers. The ends of her hair swing across his back, light as a spring breeze.

"We're supposed to share that load," she reminds him.

Heat pricks at the corner of his eyes, which had fallen shut at some point. 

He doesn't know how to put that load down, not completely. Knowing Clarke has his back-- has their people's back-- lightens it some, but he doesn't want that weight to crush her either. If he ever tried to let go of that weight completely, he thinks it would only increase the weight of his own conscience, knowing someone else would have to pick it up.

"You can take a turn," he lies.

She snorts and returns her attention to his neck, drawing playful paths with her tongue and following them with tiny, quick kisses. Sometimes she'll intersperse a flash of teeth, sometimes she'll knead the tight muscles there with scarred knuckles. Each is a reminder that she's the only one he trusts with this sort of proximity. With this sort of unguardedness. He melts under her ministrations, overwhelmed by her affection and the surety of his safety in her hands.

"How do you even keep your head on straight?" She mutters, her thumbs pressing in at the base of his skull. His muscles protest, feel more like bone against her fingers, but eventually give way just a little. His head throbs when she releases her hold, but in a good way. In the way that means blood is resuming its normal patterns of flow, instead of getting stopped up by knots of worry.

"That's what I have you for."

She squeezes his fingers. "Sap."

He tries to shrug but between the unwinding of his muscles and the weight of her half atop him, he doesn't think he quite manages it.

Her thumb traces up and down his jaw, digging in whenever she finds a pressure point. It's bad enough at the hinge, but he actually hisses when she finds a painful spot by the corner of his mouth. Her lips pour apologies over his skin, spill them into every place that's hurting until he remembers to unclench, to let his mouth fall open ever so slightly.

She rains kisses across the lower part of his face, whatever she can reach, and when she gets to his lips he slides his hand into her hair to hold her still long enough to sweep his tongue into her mouth. She gasps and he lets her go, satisfied.

Clarke rests her head on the pillow next to his, nudging him with her chin and nose until he kisses her once again. The hand that was holding his lets go, traveling to comb through his hair, stroking over his temples. His eyes grow heavy and when he closes them, he feels butterfly kisses land on his eyelids.

Her knuckles brush over his lips. He catches her hand, holds her there.

"Thanks," he mumbles.

He thinks she's smiling as she whispers, "Sleep."

 

Miraculously, he does.

**Author's Note:**

> I've had a really hard time writing anything I like lately so I opened my browser today and made myself write this. Hopefully I'll be posting more consistently soon but who knows tbh


End file.
